


Fallingwater

by Xmask



Category: Homestuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23459728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xmask/pseuds/Xmask
Kudos: 3





	Fallingwater

Winter.  
House sleeps below a snow blanket in a glade (bed) of white-coated firs, lying on a stream of rippling hair combed through beams bearing her aloft, mouth spewing a waterfall spilling darkness. She faces the quiet starry sky above him. Cold, crisp snow crunches silently as it drapes her glade in heavy woollen layers.  
The approach, a frosted walkway -shielded by a carpet of snow- stretched like a drawbridge over a moat stolen from his stream, a cloak fold draped around a fortress, her, guarding from him. She is safe in the darkness and sees only glimpses of him. Heavily, she waits.  
Windows, rectangular slits, observe the forest swallowed by a white amorphous mass of snow, a leisurely cascade. The snow blurs her, blending with her soft shades of grey. Downwards, from his foot she is visible only if you already knew her. She waits, heavily.  
An Observatory, the rest of her curls around, looking blindly upwards, dome shut with snow, the shutter a gently closed eyelid. Below Observatory: beneath her base; back along the streams to behind her; to the left; is a swell in the snow, hiding and protecting the mystery. She waits heavy.

As Earth’s celestial body shifts, invoking Spring; Sun begins to focus his gaze on her. Its warmth parts her from her snowy veil, exposing her to the satyr’s green. On these days, flowers bloom and birds sing, but she indignantly stays silent, rebuffing Nature’s advances, even as her windows tint in Sun.  
Her body is undressed as cuboid concrete blocks, bared under Sun’s gaze. She is torn into pieces. It is burning, an exquisite agony. A sizzling shrieking as she is broken into streaks of colour. She is reborn. His cascade becomes an eager coruscation, the rush of water mellowing as stratified water surges beyond the lips and down into the unknown.  
As the days coruscate, his sound, the sound of falling water, wanes warmer and wider and rounder, but she waxes further, purer, sharper, clearer, brighter. The trees awake from their slumber, shaking off their hibernation to watch. To see the beauty of her curves and edges.  
Observatory looks up resentfully into the sky, Sun having scratched the stars away from her. Observatory’s entrance is cloaked. Her entranceway, the white door, overlooks him, a chin held up in contemplation on her comb. He drowns the sounds that are not himself, a cacophony rattling against the door. It stays closed. 

Summer.  
She is sharp new curves and edges, hewn of stone. A monolithic castle shielding from the outside. Rebuilt and reshaped in light. Even? He is far from the most distant vestiges of humanity and she is impossibly guarded by him, Sun, forest, glade, snow, stars, Observatory and Her.  
Self-microcosmic, Observatory scans the stars every night. The celestial sphere marks day’s approach. She waits for the light each night and is reminded of the glade’s nothingness. The animals have been tuned out. All birdsong is already known. There is only his constant colliding chaotic crash.  
Naked, she glares with window eyes, midnight black under Sun’s lurid eye. Every corner, every detail is clear and bright under day. At noon, Sun’s rays strike her so fiercely that it is impossible to see her, the reflected truth blinding, searing to bear. Behind her, the mausoleum exposed.  
He spews a torrent ever downwards. A cycle that will never reach Sun in the sky. The precipice on which foolish House rests will collapse as the foundation erodes with the flood of millennia, it will disappear in a droplet of centuries. She will die, swallowed by water.

Disaster strikes in Autumn. Rain streaks downwards, hiding her from view. Dark clouds have all but stolen away sight. Shade now lends the only definition to House. The forest has begun to alight, bathing her in a warm red. Rain batters downwards on her rooftop like a petulant child wanting to play. She is stuck in falling water’s roar.  
The roar raises and rises, in both pitch and dynamic the silence that is still there. Now? It is inescapable. Every other tributary cut. On the precipice. The choice is to drown in the sound, or to rise above the raging river. The sand of his foot may again become the concrete of her body.  
He pries the door from its rigid frame in its wall in its temple in her truth. False idols worshipped. Still? She looked upwards without looking downwards, looks outwards without looking inwards. Reward within word. Afterward within foreword. Word: ward. Observatory may count star signs and then his children stars will look down and smile at her to see if she will smile back…


End file.
